


Insomnia

by Everlind



Series: Ever After verse [6]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlind/pseuds/Everlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shishido can't sleep. And no, it's not because he misses Choutarou, alright?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

**Insomnia**

11:49

The alarm clock tells him in red letters that leave mocking after-images against his eyelids when he closes them.

He rolls one way, then the other. Counts to ten. Then to hundred. 

Outside the dull hum that is characteristic to Tokyo's never ending bustle mingles with the soft pattering of rain against the window pane. Somewhere a dog barks. A door is slammed shut thoughtlessly of others who might be trying to _sleep_ , dammit. Like Shishido is trying to. Inconsiderate bastards.

He looks at the clock.

00:03

With a groan Shishido sits up against the headboard. It's cold. After some maneuvering he tucks his legs against him tight and tugs his t-shirt over them. His knees peek through the gaping collar. He drops his chin on them and wraps his arms around his legs to preserve body warmth. One knee is scabbed and itches, the band-aid long peeled off and gone. He juts his chin and rubs at the rough patch. The itching gets worse.

Why can't he sleep? 

He's dead fucking tired and he all wants to do is sleep. But somehow he just _can't_.

Maybe it's because he's thinking about it too much. 

Yeah.

Perhaps if he makes a cup of tea and walks around for a while, he'll be able to after.

He struggles with getting his legs out of the t-shirt again and at one point the fabric makes a worrying ripping noise. Uh-oh. Quickly he flicks on the light and checks. Oof, it's not one of Choutarou's. But it is the pajama his grandmother gave him. The one that's still as good as new. And was probably expensive. 

Oh well. What she doesn't know can't hurt her.

Crawling over the bed, which seems so big suddenly, he sits on the edge for a moment to rub his eyes. They feel gritty and itch. Everything seems to itch. Then he gets up.

His body feels ungainly and sluggish and he knocks his shoulder into the doorframe sharply, taking a layer of skin off. 

The rest of the house is even _colder_. 

Underneath his feet the tiles of the kitchen are freezing. He curls his toes repeatedly to keep them from going numb as he waits for the water to boil.

The skinned patch on his shoulder burns a little. Choutarou would probably have forced disinfectant on him by now (and likely a band-aid too), but Shishido doesn't feel like doing it. It's just a scratch anyway.

With a click the water-cooker shuts off, steam rising from within. Taking his favorite puppy mug he pours it brim-full of water and puts a tea bag in it, not _real,_ fresh tea, like he'd do for Choutarou. What's the damn point? He hops onto the kitchen counter, feet dangling against the cupboard, but at least they are off the cold floor. He's not supposed to do this, but Choutarou isn't here to give him a Disapproving Look for it (even though he doesn't complain when they're having sex on it, the hypocrite).

Pancake pads into the kitchen. She looks around, spots him sitting on the counter and then leaps in a display of defiance up on the table. Even though she's normally not allowed to. They exchange baleful looks. She seems to blame Shishido for Choutarou's absence.

"It's not my fault your sugar daddy is gone," he tells her from over the rim of his cup.

Pancake plants her rear down and thumps her tail irritably.

"How am I supposed to know why?" Shishido grumbles. "Probably because his father is a first class a-hole."

A low, pitiful mewl rises from her throat and she drops to her side as though she's been struck dead.

"Yeah," he says, turning the mug around and around between his fingers.

"Me too."

***

The tea didn't help. 

Shishido gives up at 04:06 AM.

Screw sleep.

Instead he goes running in the pitch-black darkness. He chooses the route on which he sometimes half-way meets up with former-Seigaku's Kaidoh. The few times they run (rather literally) into each other, they complete a part of the way together in unspoken agreement. They never talk much, but the company is nice. It goes via the canal. The ground is squishy and slippery under his trainers from the rain. It's cold enough his breath clouds the air in front of him in even gusts, but the exercise pumps blood all the way from his toes to the tips of his fingers, keeping him warm.

He passes under the bridge which would have marked Pancake's watery grave if he hadn't passed under it that particular day, at the exact right time to see some stone-hearted bastard throw a burlap sac filled with squirming kittens into the water. 

Somewhere under the bushes to his left the rest of the litter is buried. They had drowned. As always a shiver runs down his spine when he thinks about it. He runs a bit faster.

Back home he showers and dresses for work. 

Though it's still too early to actually _go_ to work.

Instead he settles down with a bowl of cereal and starts catching up on neglected paper work. By the time it's an acceptable time to arrive at work without looking, you know, completely lame, he's finished all his backlog and has made preparations to last him through the next four months.

He should feel immensely accomplished, but instead he feels rather stupid.

Really now.

To be honest? How much more pathetic can he get?

Choutarou's been gone only two days.

Out of seven.

God fucking damn it.

***

On the third night he moves into his own room.

Still unable to close his eyes and just _sleep_ , he stumbles out off bed. It's too empty without a second body. He feels dumb, like a child in a grown-up's bed.

"Budge over," he tells Pancake.

Offended at this invasion of what she clearly thinks is _her_ domain, she hops off the bed and slinks through the open door, tail haughtily aloft. "Fine," he grumbles. "Be that way."

For a while he stares up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars have long stopped glowing. Now they're just green blots above him, vaguely hinting at constellations. The only light is from the where he's drawn the curtains open some, forming a soft-edged rectangle on the ground and ending on the bed. For all this is his room (clearly, what with all his junk crammed into it) he's never actually slept here before. There's a bed in it, sure, but he mostly uses it to throw stuff on (clothes, books, essays, comic books, anything really) until it piles high enough to form a small mountain and Pancake doesn't even have an inch left to curl up on. Only then he'll make an effort to clear it all away, often guiltily finding papers or items he told people were gone or never even in his possession.

Shishido curls on his side and stares at the window.

Maybe he should masturbate.

Just as quickly he dismisses that idea. He's too tired. And too spoiled, probably, what with being used to getting sex regularly. And even when one of them is not in the mood (a rare occurrence indeed) they always hold each other while the other works it off. It's not the same by himself.

Then his cell phone vibrates itself off the cabinet with an incoming message. Shishido's heart leaps into his throat. Dammit, what is he? Fourteen? He shakes his head at his own lameness and gropes around over the ground until he tracks his cell under the bed.

It's a message from Choutarou.

And no, he's not grinning like an idiot at all. He's being perfectly casual and is only mildly curious.

Hey there, it says, everything alright? I'm bored to tears. I've spend all day vegetating in the onsen. Again. Why did I agree to this? 

_Cause you got a heart of gold,_ Shishido thinks wryly. _And because I made you go._ He types back: everything ok here. cant sleep?

Grandmother snores, comes the reply a minute later. Shishido grins. You?

ur stupid cat snores :p he types back. And she does, with that pug-face of hers she snores loud enough Shishido can hear her all the way from where she's probably on the couch. Though they both know that's not the reason he's still awake.

They message back and forth long enough, stupid, pointless texts, until Shishido knows they're racking up a phone bill that might even put Atobe's to shame.

go to sleep, he puts down firmly and presses send before he can change his mind.

Okay. After you, is the almost cheeky response. But it is followed by: Miss you. Dream of me? ^_∼

lame-ass, Shishido sends back. go away. i'm tired. His thumb hovers over 'send'.

Then he adds: miss you too. 

After a moment of agonizing he deletes it and just adds a 'goodnight'.

He throws the phone away from him in disgust.

***

"You," Oshitari says after a moment of disbelieving goggling, "look like hell."

"Shut up," Shishido snaps at him as he kicks off his shoes in the hallway.

"As does you temper," Oshitari adds mildly. 

For a moment Shishido stews moodily, then he relents and gets up to help Oshitari out in the kitchen. They're having him over for dinner, it's the least he can do. Also he can cook better than both Oshitari and Gakuto combined. He doesn't want to end up with food poisoning.

Oshitari smiles slow and languid. "I approve," he says happily. They both know Oshitari invited him over hoping solely for this.

"Don't get in my way," Shishido tells him. "As a matter of fact, sit down and don't help me at all."

"Yes Master," Oshitari says, ruffling his hair as he passes by him. 

Shishido snarls wordlessly in response. 

As he cooks up dinner with the few poor ingredients the fridge coughs up after a thorough search, Oshitari keeps up a steady flow of talk. About work, about the news, about some romance novel he is reading, about this morning's e-mail from Atobe.

For some reason it does ease some pent-up tension and by the time dinner is ready and Gakuto comes home, all Shishido is able to do is yawn over his bowl as his eyes start to droop. Eventually he agrees to lying down on their couch for a moment. He's sucked down into sleep rapidly. Curling a bit Shishido settles down and starts to drift. Vaguely he is aware of Gakuto draping a blanket over him.

He's tucking the edges under Shishido's body as he whispers none too discreetly, "Look at him _pine_. The idiot." 

"I think it's romantic," Oshitari responds. "Would you long for me so if I were gone, my love?" he asks Gakuto.

"First of all, you think _Titanic_ is romantic," Gakuto says with an eye-roll in his words. "You know how I feel about _Titanic_."

"Philistine," Oshitari mumbles.

"Whatever," Gakuto responds. "Second of all, no, I'd be perfectly happy to have some peace if you were gone for a while. No more randomly being molested. No more being chained to the furniture. No more nurse outfits. No more _Titanic_." 

"No more edible chocolate body paint," Oshitari points out. "Which I went and picked up after work. Because I am an exemplary boyfriend."

"It's not the brand that makes my balls break out in a rash, is it?" Gakuto wants to know. "That one itched for _weeks_. And permanently stained the couch."

After a frantic scramble Shishido finds Gakuto has tucked him in so securely he's trapped, so instead he rolls off the couch and lands with a thud on the floor. Right on his tailbone. 

"What's up with you?" Gakuto demands.

Shishido glances over his shoulder at the couch. There's chocolate stains everywhere.

"Oh," Gakuto says, going a dull red. "I take it you weren't asleep?"

Shishido glares at him and Gakuto tilts his head so hair hides his face. Then at Oshitari. Who just smiles back like a cat who got the cream.

Or chocolate body paint.

Right.

"I'm going home," he announces as he gets up off the floor. "Thanks for dinner," he adds, even though he made it.

"Okay," Gakuto agrees meekly, escorting him to the door.

Shishido steps into his sneakers and wraps a scarf around his neck until it comes up to his nose.

"Hey Ryou," Gakuto speaks up as he's pulling on his jacket.

"Hm?"

"You should get some sleep," he says softly, almost tenderly. "He'll be back."

For good measure he levels a frown at Gakuto when he says in his most 'du'h' sort of voice, "I know that."

But Gakuto has had years of being frowned at by him, so he's gained a sort of immunity by now. He doesn't even really flinch anymore. "You seemed to sleep fine with us nearby. Oh! I know! You get should get a sleep-over buddy!" he exclaims, snapping his fingers.

Shishido frowns, about to scoff and dismiss it, but then reconsiders. He cards his fingers through his hair and murmurs, "Hm. Yeah, maybe I should."

After all, who better a _sleep_ -over buddy than Jiroh?

***

"This is _awesome_!" Jiroh says, bouncing on the bed. "Just like old times."

Shishido nods, but feels weird. Even though he spend all evening cleaning the room and changing the sheets, seeing Jiroh in the same bed he shares with Choutarou is downright... wrong, almost.

Which is a whole new dimension of lame since they're obviously not going to do anything but sleep.

Still...

He doesn't want to be an asshole and send Jiroh to the couch. Which would also defeat the point of having someone close by in order to try and test this theory of his needing another person nearby to sleep.

And moving to his own bedroom is probably even stupider since that bed is suited for only one person. If they slept there they'd be mashed together like sardines. There would be no avoiding bodily contact. Which equals cheating even more, doesn't it?

"Ryou," Jiroh suddenly says. "Stop worrying."

"I'm not worried," Shishido grumbles. Only slightly concerned that Choutarou would think him an unfaithful, lying slut when he hears about it.

"Hey," Jiroh says. "I can leave. I understand."

"No, it's alright," Shishido says decisively. "You want me to make popcorn?"

Jiroh considers him, his eyes bright and way too perceptive. After a moment he nods and grins like a 1000-watt light-bulb. "Yes please!"

They end up seeing _Star Wars_ on Shishido's laptop, which they maneuver onto a small portable table by the foot-end of the bed. On their stomachs, feet towards the headboard, they avidly watch the screen and eat popcorn. Pancake cannot resist the temptation and curls up between them, purring like a small Y-wing starfighter herself. By the time the credits roll by Jiroh is sound asleep, snoring in perfect unison with the cat.

Shishido moves the popcorn to avoid spilling and then covers Jiroh under a blanket. He doesn't have the heart to chase away Pancake now. She's tucked snugly into the crescent of Jiroh's slightly curled body, at ease. So he shuts the laptop and turns off the light. Finally, after one last awful moment riddled with indecision, he lies down next to Jiroh with a blanket of his own.

The newly washed sheets smell of laundry detergent and popcorn. And maybe faintly of Jiroh.

It's even worse than before.

***

Only one more night after this one and Choutarou will be home.

He tries sleeping in his own room and can't.

He tries sleeping on the couch and can't.

He tries sleeping in their room and can't.

Shishido gives up. 

It's somewhere past one in the morning. There's nothing on TV and he's exhausted his collection of books and DVDs the previous nights. He's too tired to play a video game, plus his reaction-time is nihil anyway. So he starts cleaning up. 

As he can hardly vacuum at this time of the night, he mops the tiled floor after he's dusted everything off. He cleans up wayward clutter. He moves furniture. He scrubs the kitchen. He fixes some lights and electrical sockets that have been malfunctioning. 

All the while he scowls and tries not to think about his own patheticness. 

After all it is his own fault Choutarou is gone. Shishido told him to go. Not that he wanted him gone, or anything, but if Choutarou's family wants to have a nice ski-vacation with their son...? He's in their bad books enough as it is. So yeah, sure, Choutarou pointed out that it wasn't fair his sister was allowed to bring her husband and kids, but Choutarou not his boyfriend. That's not fair, okay. Thing is, Shishido sorta gets why Choutarou's parents (mostly his dad) act the way they do. After all no parents would really, truly _like_ hearing their kids tell them they're suddenly gay. After actively having dated girls for a while. And with the one person they trusted the most to guide their son through his academic career like a proper senpai. Him. Not easy to realize said senpai and their only son have not only been 'playing tennis' together but a lot more than that, either.

Shishido smothers a yawn and pulls his legs up as he settles down on the ladder's platform. What a sight he must make: sitting on top of a ladder at two AM, in the middle of a mostly dark living room, balancing a screwdriver on his index finger. He's too tired to care.

He just hopes Ohtori-san hasn't been able to persuade too many beautiful, talented and rich bachelorettes to go on a ski-vacation in the selfsame resort.

Not that he doesn't trust Choutarou. He does. It's just that the idea of those girls fluttering all around him makes Shishido want to fly over there and ram the screwdriver he's holding into their eye-sockets. 

He fixes the lamp and makes his way down the ladder. Tomorrow morning he'll put it back in the shed. 

Maybe he can still find some laundry to do.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he slides open the wardrobe on Choutarou's side and peers at the contents. He finds some sweaters and shirts that have been squashed at the bottom of a pile long enough to be wrinkled beyond all hope and some dress slacks that he'd folded crookedly the last time if was his turn to do the laundry. Shishido hates doing the laundry. Hates ironing and folding even more. Hates all domestic shores but cooking, actually.

He nudges aside some hangers. Most items there are put up nice and smooth, Choutarou's work. Probably not much here he can... hey.

Shishido pauses, blinks, and digs deeper.

It's impossible to keep the grin off his face when he pulls out Choutarou's old hyotei regulars' jacket. He must've forgotten to pack it in his rush, otherwise he undoubtedly would have taken it with him. He's terribly sentimental about it. Still wears it when they go out and play tennis together at the gym, even, the big dork.

Dropping the rest of the clothes unceremoniously on the floor, he walks over to the bed with the jacket in his hands and sinks down onto it. The colors are faded beyond hope and frequent use has made the fabric soft and worn.

He bundles it between his fingers and moves his hands up to...

No way.

That's just _too_ weird for him.

He'll admit to having a strange habit here or there, but he's not going to sniff the jacket like some perverted old man.

Fuck.

Get a _grip_ , he tells himself and throws the jacket away from himself. It arcs through the room and disappears from sight.

Too fucking pathetic by far.

***

His temper isn't the best at times, Shishido knows that. But the way it is now is even bad for him. 

His students call him 'Shishido the Devil' behind his back, but now they call him that to his face. Besides being strict and demanding of them, he tries to be as funny and interesting as he can during his lectures. It balances, so 'Shishido the Devil' is mostly used with a loose laugh and an eye-roll.

Now though...

It's a relief the week is drawing to an end. One day longer and his students would be leaving his classroom in tears. Lucky, too, he's not coaching any kids at the tennis club today. He'd probably strangle the first kid displaying sloppy form with a racket-string, or something.

After work he goes for a run that only invigorates him marginally, but enough to make himself a half-way decent meal. 

Pancake has given up on ignoring him and debases herself low enough to rub up against his ankles. Shishido has given up at grumbling resentfully at her (if not for his saving the cat, they might've had a dog) and picks her up. They eat dinner on the couch together and watch the moving images on the screen. 

After the late night news Shishido gets up and takes a hot shower. He stands under the spray long enough for the tips of his fingers to wrinkle and his muscles to relax imperceptibly. Back in the living room Pancake has stolen his spot on the couch, curled up in the indent his butt left. He turns off the TV and walks into the bedroom still rubbing himself dry with the towel.

It doesn't matter where he is, he can't sleep anyway, so he decides to return to their shared bed on the last night. 

He ruffles his hair and sinks down naked on the bed. For a moment he peers ahead into space apathetically, then he tries to re-locate his pajamas with a sigh of ginormous proportions. But even when he pokes around everywhere he can't find them. They're not under the bed. They're not in the closet. He reaches behind a chair into a narrow gap and his fingers touch fabric. Ah-hah! 

Triumphantly he yanks his arm up and... 

Scowls.

It's that damned jacket.

He's half-temped to stuff it back down there and leave it, but he doesn't want to explain to Choutarou afterwards that the mere sight of it tempted him to bury his face into the cloth and inhale.

"Stupid jacket," he tells it as he walks towards the wardrobe. He takes a hanger and...

And.

...and.

And puts the jacket on.

Who's gonna know, right?

Like most of Choutarou's clothes, it's too big. The sleeves swallow his fingers and it it's way too wide across the shoulders. And his not wearing anything underneath isn't helping of course. It feels nice and soft on his bare skin though. 

If he's gonna be pathetic about this, better go all out and do it right then.

Shishido sighs, shrugs deeper into the jacket and crawls under the sheets wearing only that. The lights are flicked off and everything falls into blue shadows.

Tomorrow is a sunday. There'll be no reason to sleep in (if he sleeps at all that is) without Choutarou. His partner will probably get home late, at least that's what he regretfully told Shishido. It's not the end of the world, or anything, but he's a tad disappointed he loses a morning of having Choutarou in bed with him for as long as they please. Next week then.

Damn.

What with the sheets smelling clean and he himself just washed, the jacket overpowers everything almost headily with... Choutarou. He's wrapped in a _cocoon_ of it.

He turns his face into the collar and breathes in deep.

 _Hmm_.

Okay, fuck this. 

Who's gonna know, right?

Feeling his face heat up despite being perfectly alone, despite it being perfectly normal and _despite_ having done this when he was younger and finding a wayward t-shirt belonging to Choutarou in his drawer... Despite being embarrassed and feeling lame, he moves his hand in a slow slide down and curls it around his aching erection.

Goddammit.

***

"Ohayo!"

The voice is way too cheerful, too awake and too loud. Curtains are snapped aside with a flourish and clear, bright afternoon light floods the room. Shishido grunts in protest, tucking his head down and squeezing his eyes shut.

Which thrice-damned idiot is waking him up?! Now he's finally able to sleep and....

Oh.

 _Shit_.

He peels open one eye, then the other. Yep, it's Choutarou alright. A bit more tanned than usual (with a rather ridiculous imprint of skiing goggles around his eyes), but still Choutarou. Who is home.

"The hell you doing here so early?" he exclaims, snatching the sheets up to his chin in a flash rather like a victorian lady protecting her virtue. 

"I missed you too," Choutarou says with an eye-roll. "I left early. I was bored."

"Okay," Shishido manages, from behind the edge of the comforter. "That's nice."

"That's _nice_?"

"Yeah."

"Ryou."

"What?" he bites out tersely.

"Are you hiding something?"

"No," Shishido says, clenching his fists pre-emptively into the sheets. "I'm not."

"Okay," Choutarou agrees happily, dark eyes gleaming. "Then you won't mind if I do _this_!"

With all his might (which is considerable) he yanks at the sheets while Shishido hangs onto them with all his determination (which is equally considerable). When he can, Shishido rolls himself like a sausage further into the sheets, howls and curses at Choutarou to get lost, while Choutarou crawls on the bed and tugs in an effort to untangle him. Somewhere in the middle of it all he lands a sloppy kiss on Shishido's cheek, though Shishido colorfully threatens him, gets his arms around him in a firm grip, finds an edge of the sheets and _heaves_.

Shishido unrolls, over-balances and falls off the bed.

Sprawling with his arms and legs akimbo he glares up at Choutarou, who kneels on the bed and looks down on him bemusedly.

There's a beat of silence.

"Ryou?"

"...what?"

"Why are you wearing my old regulars' jacket?"

_Damn it._

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> ART FOR INSOMNIA:  
> [Shishido and Pancake, both missing their sugar daddy by oriaon/perimones](http://perimones.deviantart.com/art/Insomnia-308738237)  
> 


End file.
